The ramblings of a machine god
Too few, too many
Whirrs, cogwheels and clicks
Time ascertaining in complete calibration
Seconds, minutes, wait for the hours
Metal, glass, polished
Whirrs, clicks, rumblings of Machina

Hell on Earth
One man, one machine, born into a shell case strewn reality
Battling against each other in a set stream of fluid hostility
They shoot, they die, they resurrect in a never ending apocalypse
No giving up, no cease fire, just a burning desire
To rid the world of the one they cannot retire
Cool hate, climactic fury, two poles of metal vs tissue
When does it end, this vengeful reign of consumed apostles

5, 5.30 in the morning
Is it late, is it early?
It's dark outside, but it's light in my mind
Asleep or awake
Oh what a complicated thing
I wish to sleep, but stay awake to fall a-
Oh early morning
Wishing you were late